Island Promises

by Connell, Joy

  It was Riley’s turn to stare. She hoped her mouth wasn’t gaping open but she wouldn’t guarantee it wasn’t. A thousand questions went through her mind. How could such a change have come to Millie in so little time? Did she really mean this? Had she fallen that deep and that fast for Henri? The question she put a voice to was: Where’s my friend Millie and what have you done with her? This replacement is pretty good but the real one must be circling above us in the mother ship, tapping her pencil, pacing, and demanding to be released right this instant.

  Millie threw back her head, her long, dark hair rippling down her back and laughed again in a throaty way. Then she did something that confirmed for Riley she wasn’t who she pretended to be. She got up, came around, and hugged Riley. “You’ve been a good friend to me. The best. I want for you what I have now. A sense of who you are and where you belong. People to love who love you back. You’re worth it.” Riley felt her giggle against her hair. “Holy crap, now I sound like a damn hair color commercial. Maybe the sun’s getting me.” With that she straightened up and turned to leave, sliding the sunglasses back down to shield her eyes.

  Riley was so astounded that she almost forgot to ask about RK until Millie was a few steps away.

  “Millie, what about RK? What did he want?”

  Millie turned and gave a small smile. “He said you’ve been avoiding him, won’t answer his calls.”

  “Damn straight. The last time he was such a jerk.”

  “He said to tell you to call. The network got the pirate story. Apparently you forwarded it using the station’s logos.”

  “Yeah.” Riley was expecting to hear that she was in even more trouble for using the logos.

  “They loved it. They want it. And they want you. Call him.” With that, Millie was gone and Riley was left alone, swirling the straw slowly in her drink, looking out toward the sea and wondering what the hell she would do now.

  Chapter 9

  Riley toyed with the thin, flat bread that resembled the bread sticks in Italian restaurants back home and resisted the urge to help herself to more tea. She was waiting for Millie, something she seemed to have devoted her life to since her friend from Chicago had marched onto the dock. When she’d first realized it was Millie who had hired Reprieve, she was overjoyed. But in the back of her mind she was leery of spending two weeks with her boss. She had even complained to Mitchell and explained to Joe that her time would be occupied with her old friend, who knew no one on the island and needed her.

  But since they had wrapped the pirate story, she had barely seen Millie. They had crossed paths once or twice for a few moments. Henri was almost always there, waiting while Millie grabbed some clothes from her cabin on Reprieve or made vague plans with Riley to catch up. Those plans never materialized.

  Millie and Henri had gone from barely disguised hate for each other to not being able to keep their hands off each other. When she joined him, Henri invariably slung a muscular, tanned arm around Millie, and she looked up at him, seeing only him. Riley had actually watched her giggle at something Henri said. Back in Chicago, she and Millie had shared cups of coffee, fueling their already jangled nerves, and made wise cracks about the cotton-candy-for-brains girls who giggled at everything a man said.

  Riley blew out a breath. Maybe she was being too harsh. After all, she had found Joe on this island. But he had been out of sorts this week. He had planned on a charter and Millie’s insistence that Reprieve not leave the dock had ruined his plans. Not that Millie spent much time on Reprieve, but the boat was still hers. She had paid for the time.

  Thinking about Joe, his sandy hair washed by the sun, his face so serious when it had anything to do with sailing or Reprieve, his long, hard body, made Riley warm. But, Riley consoled herself, Joe didn’t make her giggle. And whatever she had with Joe would be gone now that the mess in Chicago was cleared up and she was on the fast track again.

  To Riley’s surprise, the thought of never seeing Joe again sparked a physical reaction. Her stomach dropped to her toes, her mouth went dry and she thought, to her embarrassment, that she might break into tears on the spot. The only other time she’d felt like this was when someone had died. Yes, she had fallen for Joe in a short time, but the depth of her feeling for him was scaring her. Maybe getting out would be a good thing. If she got in any deeper, she might not be able to walk away.

  After Millie had shown her the headline and story saying she was in the clear and delivered the message about the network liking the pirate story, Riley had desperately wanted to talk to RK but Millie had said he was on assignment for the week, somewhere in New York. Riley could just imagine what kind of assignment that would be. Probably involved a lot of foreign correspondents with long legs and even longer hair he hadn’t seen in quite a while. Not that she thought about him sleeping with them. She couldn’t bring herself to face that possibility, couldn’t let it in. He was just a flirt and he attracted women like flies to honey. She should be happy that of all the women, she was the one he chose.

  “You look troubled.” Rosa sat down beside her, arranging the flowered dress she wore over her stomach. She was not a pretty woman but Riley had come to love and respect the broad face with its bold features and the kindness that shone from her eyes.

  “Ever hit one of those patches in life where nothing has gone the way you expected?” Riley stirred her drink and looked into it as though the answers were there.

  “That is not a patch. That is life. The way it is. Plans are fine and grand and keep us thinking. But, ultimately, it is God who decides.”

  “Well, I wish he’d hurry up and decide which way things are going.”

  “You thought Millie would spend more time with you.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Does it show that much?”

  “If you are worried Millie will notice and be hurt, don’t be. She and Henri only have time and thoughts for each other. It may be hurtful but I don’t believe she has even considered your feelings.”

  “What about you? You’re his mother. You and Stanley must be on pins and needles about what will happen. How hurt will he be when Mildred, I mean Millie, goes back to Chicago?”

  Rosa nodded to Stanley, who was wiping down the bar. Sensing her gaze, he smiled at her with a warmth Riley envied.

  “Neither one of us believes that Millie will be returning to Chicago.” Rosa paused and patted Riley’s hand with her own, reading in her face her surprise. “No, not that Henri has said a thing to us. But we are, as you pointed out, his parents. We have watched and we have waited. It has become clear that he cares very much for this woman. And she for him.”

  “Rosa, you can’t be serious. You really think the two of them will chuck everything they know and run off into the sunset together?” Riley could barely sit still. The idea made her nervous.

  “You misunderstand. We, Stanley and I, do not believe they will throw everything away. We believe they will come to an understanding and a way of life that will be different for at least one of them.”

  “You’re okay with that? They’ve barely known each other a couple of weeks.”

  “I knew Stanley for only a very short time and yet I knew in my heart and in my soul that my life would be so much better, so much richer with him in it. I knew that long before I knew his parents’ names or what his favorite food was.” Rosa looked at her husband. He was the type of man few women would give a second glance to, skinny and quiet, pale skin and thinning hair. But in Rosa’s face there was admiration and love. “Once you get the big things right, the small things fall into place.”

  Her comments made Riley think. So she didn’t know Joe’s favorite food, his favorite color or his grandparents’ names. There hadn’t been time for that; they’d only known each other a short while. What she did know, though, was that he would stand in front of her when she was attacked, he would
steer a boat through a horrible storm and handle an air-lift of a sick passenger, he would put on a suit, one thing she knew he hated, and watch while one of his best friends married.

  She also knew that when he loved, he committed deeply and completely. She could feel it in the way he held her at night, hear it in the before-sleep talk about future plans and future voyages, experience it in the way he was annoyingly concerned about where she went, what she did.

  With all of her being she knew he loved her, even though he hadn’t said it. And, God help her, she was beginning to feel the same way about him.

  The atmosphere in the room changed. It became lighter, happier, more layered. Riley could feel the difference. She looked across the dining room, where about a dozen tables were occupied and saw Henri and Millie entering. Does love do that? Does it send out a net that draws everyone around in? And was this really love they felt for each other?

  “Mama.” Henri bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. The two faces were so alike. Both strong, both peaceful. His was lighter, his eyes more evenly spaced, his nose smaller, more sculpted. Hers was bigger, darker, bolder, but there was no doubt they were mother and son.

  He took Millie’s hand and shifted her under his arm. She had become someone Riley would not have recognized. The pale skin that never saw anything but fluorescent lights had gained color in the tropic sun. Pink dotted her cheeks and her forehead. Her hair was a loose mass of dark waves cascading down her back and framing her face. The body she spent time toning in a gym only to cover in black turtlenecks, long sweaters and pleated pants was on full view in light colored Capri pants, a skimpy top that showed her belly button and a tiny button shirt thrown over top.

  “You got your belly button pierced,” Riley cried.

  “Do you believe it? Henri suggested it. At first I said absolutely not. Too much chance for infection, or pain. But then I thought about it. Why not? You only live once,” Millie said.

  “Can we go over to the bar?” Henri asked.

  Rosa took her time hefting herself from the chair and making her way to the bar. Stanley reached across and gave his son an affectionate kiss on the forehead. Both parents beamed at him as though he were a baby taking his first steps.

  “We have an announcement,” Henri said.

  “One moment,” Rosa interrupted. “Any announcements call for champagne. Stanley, do we have some back there?”

  They watched in silence as he brought out the bottle, wrapped it in a towel, and then they laughed as he popped the cork, letting it fly across the bar. Several diners laughed and applauded.

  When the glasses were filled, they raised them and waited. Riley’s stomach was doing flip-flops. She had tried to leave, said this sounded like a family affair but Millie had stopped her, saying she was the nearest thing she had to family on this island.

  “We’re getting married,” Henri shouted, raising his glass in one hand and Millie’s in the other where a ring was prominently displayed.

  Riley began to choke and couldn’t stop. Stanley came around the bar and Henri got behind her. They bent her over, rubbed her back. Her eyes watered and spittle dribbled from the sides of her mouth. All through the room there was quiet concern and revulsion.

  “The bubbles,” Riley gasped when she could finally get some air. “Up my nose.” They let her go but they stood close, watching her. She tried to take a deep breath but her lungs rebelled and she coughed again. Before they could double her over for the second time, she waved them off and willed herself to settle down and let some air into her system.

  “Riley, I had no idea this would choke you up so much.” Millie broke the ice and they laughed, although it was tinged with anxiety.

  Riley forced the corners of her mouth up into a half-hearted smile, even as she used a bar napkin to dab at her shirt where the spittle had made a spray pattern.

  “We will have an island wedding. All the traditions. It will be beautiful,” Rosa said.

  Millie and Henri exchanged a glance and then Henri addressed his mother. “Millie and I”—he looked to his future bride for support, courage—“We want to get married right away. Next weekend.”

  “We’re not expecting anything big or fancy,” Millie rushed in. “We don’t want you to put yourselves out or go to any trouble. It’s just that we’re so happy together and this feels so right we don’t want to wait.”

  Rosa took Millie’s face between her hands and then kissed her future daughter-in-law’s cheek. “This is our only son.” She dropped her hands from Millie’s face and patted Henri’s back. “Nothing is too much trouble. This will be a joy to us. Nothing about this could be a burden.”

  “One more thing, Mama.” Henri again looked toward Millie. “We would like to stay here, in my quarters, after we’re married. Millie loves this place, too. I will continue to work here and, perhaps, we can find a place for Millie to work as well. She’s so smart and she knows a lot about advertising and has some great ideas about guest relations.” He paused. “If that’s all right with you.”

  Tears in her eyes, Rosa nestled her head into the crook of her husband’s arm for a moment and he rubbed the side of her arm, kissed the top of her head. Then she took Millie’s and Henri’s hands in each of her own. “Nothing could make us happier.”

  While the family scene was playing out, Riley nodded at Stanley and slipped out into the bright sunlight. When she was enough of a distance away, she let the cough she had been suppressing go full steam. Choking and sputtering, she stumbled into a clearing under a palm tree and collapsed against the trunk, noisily breathing in the ocean air. It was all too much to take in. The transformation of her tough-talking, career-oriented friend. The sudden announcement of a wedding and the parents, rather than screeching about how there wasn’t enough time to plan, welcoming the celebration. There was also the bleak possibility of returning to Chicago without Millie. Who would she gossip with about the new anchorman and whether his hair was real? Who would pick up the pieces, yet again, when RK decided to pull one of his enormously selfish stunts and she was left in mental tatters?

  The only thing she knew for sure was she had to get the hell off this island before whatever was in the water affected her and turned her brain to soap opera mush so that all she wanted was to find a strong, reliable man, settle down in a shack, and pop out babies. Pulling herself together, she headed for Reprieve and hoped no one was there. She needed to get on that computer, to finalize the details about the pirate story with the network, and get back to her old life.

  By the time Riley reached Reprieve, she was pacing the deck, ranting at first Anthony and then Mitchell, who told her to “chill out” and “get a frigging grip” before they disappeared mumbling something about urgent business somewhere, anywhere, else. She zeroed in on Joe, who sat down heavily and watched her madwoman act until she could no longer stand it herself.

  “How can you just sit there and let them make this terrible mistake?” she demanded, her hands on her hips.

  “Who says it’s a mistake?” His brown eyes challenged her.

  Damn, she hated the way his sandy hair slid down over one eye. It made him look so cute it was distracting. She looked away. Hard to think when those muscular legs, which could wrap around her and nearly lift her off the bunk, were only a foot away.

  “Of course it’s a mistake. They barely know each other. I’ll bet Henri doesn’t know Millie has this thing about game shows. She’s absolutely addicted to the worst, the dumbest ones. She probably hasn’t told him she can’t eat fish if the eyes are still there and looking at her. Ten to one they haven’t talked about . . .”

  Joe stood, then took both her hands and trapped them between his. “They know what they need to know,” he said as softly as the breeze. “They know they love each other. They know their souls have touched.” He let her hands drop and leaned in, rubbing and knea
ding the small of her back with his fists, gently nibbling her earlobe. “I’ll bet Henri knows the places and the points that drive her crazy. He knows how she looks in the moonlight. How she aches for beached dolphins and lost kittens.” He rocked her back and forth a little and edged her toward the companionway and what had become “their” cabin.

  “My friend Henri knows what he has. Knows quality.” He kissed her, slowly, deeply, then backed down the companionway, leading her behind him. When they got to the bottom, he pulled her into him and ran his hands from her hairline slowly down her back making each vertebrae jump under the gentle pressure of his fingertips.

  The sun had set and the night had come on like a heavy blanket, deep and dark and suddenly. At the end of her spine, he grabbed her butt with both of his hands. Through the flimsy cloth of her shorts she could feel the roughened calluses of the hands of a man who sailed for a living. She was quivering now. Putty. A slobbering, unthinking mass of reaction. There was nothing to do but follow him, into the cabin; into the world of safety and bliss he created for them.

  The next morning Riley, alone on Reprieve, was working on her middle toe, the bane of her existence, trying to get the polish just right, when the little envelope appeared and the computer rang out once. An e-mail had come in. She reached around and moved the mouse to open it, then went back to her toe while the message came up on the screen. She always saved the middle toes for last; they were such a pain. They rubbed on either side, they were a little crooked, and they were ticklish.

  When the “from” line came up, she put the brush back, closed the polish, and sat up straighter to read.

  She read it once, twice, and then let out a loud whoop that sent seagulls flying off the dock. New York officially wanted her. The network was calling. This was what she had dreamed of since her days in journalism school. Not only did they like the pirate story, they liked her.